


From the Journals of Blair Sandburg

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair updates his journal during a stake-out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Journals of Blair Sandburg

Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be. Summary: A look inside Blair's head.

Thanks go out to JR. Without whose help this wouldn't have gotten finished. Any typos are mine. Hope you enjoy. :) 

*****

**From the journals of Blair Sandburg**

by

Heather Thornburg

3/Aug/2001

Sometimes stakeouts can be boring. You spend hour after hour watching a place, only to have absolutely nothing happen. Although, that can be a good thing. At least if it's quiet we, that is Jim and I, aren't being shot at by anybody. It also gives me time to update this thing.

It's been, what, a month since I last wrote in here? The Sentinel thing is going great. Jim hasn't zoned in over three weeks, and I don't think he'll be zoning for that reason again. But I guess I should explain what happened before I explain how we fixed it, huh?

See we were on yet another stakeout, but this one wasn't so boring. We were watching for a guy named Winslow. Albert Winslow, Bert to his friends, was supposed to be a *the* new bigshot drug runner in town. As it turned out, he was running more than just drugs. When we finally got inside the warehouse that he was using, it was loaded with huge bins and crates. This guy was moving everything from crack to golden. Yeah, I said golden. I shudder to think of the effect of all that golden out in the population of Cascade. There were also enough weapons to supply an army, not to mention enough cash to buy a small island.

Anyway, Winslow showed up around 12:30 am. Handing me his cell-phone \-- I'd forgotten mine at home in the charger -- Jim ordered me to stay put and call for back-up before he followed Winslow into the warehouse. I stayed put only long enough to make the call, then I took off after him. The bad news was that by the time I got there he was zoned, and Winslow had gotten away. Jim wasn't hurt, though, thank the gods.

When we finally got a chance, I asked Jim if he knew what had caused the zone. He told me that he couldn't find his anchor - me - through all the other smells in the warehouse. The first thing that went through my mind when he said this was: How the hell can we fix this? The next thought that immediatly followed was: He thinks of me as his anchor? Cool! I knew he needed me, but I guess I never realized just how much. But before I could dwell on that thought any further, I had to come up with some ideas on how to fix this new problem. *Jim* actually came up with the answer. I now wear one of his shirts over mine, then he wears it the next day. I think most of the guys down at the station have figured it out. Although they haven't said anything, at least not to me. I can't help but wonder what Jim's overheard. I know he heard something unpleasent, because he was really tense there for a few days. Yet when I tried to find out what was wrong, he told me that it was nothing. Oh well, Jim never has been good at opening up about anything. At least now even if I can't be with him and he gets sent out, he has his anchor.

I have to admit, I enjoy wearing his shirts. In a strange way, it's like having his arms around me all day long. I know it's corny, but when you're in love, a lot of normal things seem really romantic. Not that wearing your partner's shirt the day before he does is in anyway 'normal'. But then again, is there *anything* about the two of us that isn't out of the ordinary?

Last week, I went to the swap meet, can't remember now what I was looking for anymore. At the very back of the market there was an old lady selling antiques. Right in the middle of the table was this beautiful hand-painted Victorian mystery box. I had to have it! I'd been looking for one for months, it just seems to be a perfect description of Jim.

He has so many layers that no else ever bothered to look for. Oh, they see the top layer. The tough cop, ex-military, don't come near me or I'll break you in half, exterior. But it's just an act. The real Jim Ellison is a kind caring romantic with a heart of gold, although he'd never admit it. He's so afraid of being hurt that he puts on the tough cop act. It took a long time and a hell of a lot of effort on my part before he let me see past the act to the real Jim. And when he finally told me why he puts on the act, it was easy to understand. He'd been hurt so often in the past by the ones he loved and cared for that it was hard for him to trust anybody. But when you got past the barrier, he was like an entirely different person. Someone who is content to sit and cuddle on the couch while watching tv, or making hot, passionate love up in the big bed. But the best part is the trust. For him to give me his trust, to believe that I won't hurt him as so many others have, is truly monumental. I love him more than the world, and I honestly don't think death is going to be enough to sepparate us. I believe we'll be together for all of eternity. Oh, gawd. Now who sounds like a hopeless romantic?

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Jim and the box. He's got so many layers, I'm not sure I'll ever see them all. Like I said, there's the cop, and the romantic. He's caring, and willing to help anyone in trouble. He also has his phobias, just like the rest of us. He's afraid to be on water if he can't see land. He also still has the unreasonable fear that I'm going to leave him someday. But we're working on that.

Well, the perp just went in. Now we have to wait and see what he does. If we're lucky, we can make the bust tonight, then we'll have the weekend to ourselves.

-finis-


End file.
